Snow Angels
He has never seen snow.
He grew up in a desert, and all he ever knew was sand and sun and heat, ever oppressive except after a while you stop noticing, if you ever did before.
Then again, he shouldn't be so amazed by snow. He has seen far more magical and wondrous things on the way here.
He has seen a village hidden in the woods and the insides of an airship. He has wandered dungeons and the darkness of dead king's tomb. He has felt the Mist gather in his palms and explode in a miniature sun. He has slain beasts and men and forced himself to think them one and the same.
But nothing, not one, except for maybe the Strahl, can quite compare to the Paramina Rift.
It is cold here, especially since he wears little more than a vest and armoured pants, (He can ill afford more, even now. Good weaponry and supplies and armour cost more than they should, he thinks, especially since they're trying to save the world.) and he shivers almost constantly. Penelo is little better, except at least she is fully covered, he thinks dourly.
But rising above the cold, is the sheer amazement and wonder at the sight of a snow covered land.
Basch indulges him when he runs off to play in the snow; Balthier chuckles and rolls his eyes but lets him, usually with no more than a snarky comment or two (or three, or four); Ashe grumbles but even she is tempered a bit by the beauty of the Rift; Fran says little but she does not bar them, which says enough; Penelo berates him for his impulsiveness but joins him anyway.
For a little while, he and Penelo are children again, something that they have long said farewell to.
(He might be immature, but he is not a child. Childhood means innocence and that is something he gave up when he first killed.)
They make snow angels in the ground.
They are silly things, really, but somehow immensely satisfying. They prove that he is here and she is here and they are here and even if they are killers they can make angels.
After a while, the snow angels fade.
He thinks that this is the only similarity the Rift has with Rabanastre.
Everything fades, blown away by the wind, be it hot sand or icy snow.
He would probably find something incredibly philosophical about this if he were Balthier or Fran, and even Basch would find some delicious irony in this. Penelo has probably already composed her poem ( a dance really ) on this in her head, but he isn't like that. So he just watches the snow angels fade away and he says nothing.
Sometimes, even for him, there is nothing that can be said. He doesn't really know what he thinks about it. Except it hurts, somewhere deep inside.
(-fading away like his brother did, dying encased in white walls and Galbana Lilies that always wilted – fading like his parents as the plague took their life – fading like his country in the midst of a war – fading like everything in his life-)
But there is little he can do about it, so he stays quiet.
So he runs off, abandons the half-there snow angels, slays some Marks and earns his Gil for later, when he collects the bounty. He jokes with Penelo and pesters Baltheir for flying lessons.
He runs ahead and forgets the snow angels (all the innocence and all the pain) left behind him in the snow.
And all the while, the wind blows them away until they fade to nothing, once more smooth untainted snow.
There's really something philosophical about it, really.
It's just that some things do not need saying.
This is one of them.
-0-0-0-
I admit, I do not write things with plot very much. I prefer character studies.
(Maybe because I go on way too many unrelated tangents when writing plot stuff.)
I also use brackets way too much.
Vaan, to me, has always been a pretty interesting character. He's a common guy, and his only real relevence to the plot is Reks, but he eventually becomes the best fighter in team (I mean, really, look at his stats).
And well, it's 2 in the morning and I can't sleep, so here you go.
If you liked it, please review. If you didn't, tell me why.
(That is known as shameless begging.)
~FO